


slow and high tempo

by Shespitsfire



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Breathplay, Control, Denial, F/M, One Shot Collection, Playing with Power Dynamics, Sexual Content, Smut, Teasing, Trust, elements of BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shespitsfire/pseuds/Shespitsfire
Summary: No one else would know him like this.*Nominated 2020 3rd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards (run by FeudalConnection): Best NSFW*
Relationships: Kagura/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

Sesshomaru rests calmly on his knees against the floor. The room is shrouded in darkness. He is so still, one might think he has become a monk, and is meditating. 

Except, one does not meditate with a wind witch at their side. 

Kagura’s fan traces carefully along the line of his left elbow up to his shoulder, then the line of back muscle. She doesn’t speak, but he knows she’s smirking. He doesn’t move. 

No one else would know him like this. 

The fan ticks down his spine, then back up again, and he resists the urge to arch or flinch. A daiyokai would require much more to force a reaction. In a way, he thinks of this as training. 

Kagura probably does, as well-- _ Aren’t I helping you learn to reign in that temper?  _

She circles, and he sees that the arm not holding her weapon is crossed over her stomach. It’s almost regal, the posture she takes. The edge of the fan drags around to his right shoulder. Instead of crossing down his arm, however, she flicks it up to press against the yokai marks on his right cheek. His eyes snap up. The wind witch stares back, bold as ever, and presses the edge of the weapon harder against his cheek. 

The growl rumbling in his chest is all that he allows himself; if he bares his teeth at her, the game is over. Kagura cocks an eyebrow, but releases the pressure. The fan moves down to rest just under his chin. Stepping closer, she sinks to crouch at his eye level. Demon bone and blue silk presses into his jaw, forcing him to tilt his head up just the tiniest bit. 

It’s so  _ practiced.  _ Sesshomaru can’t help but wonder. 

Then the fan leaves his skin, resting instead against Kagura’s lips. She taps it once, twice, pretending like she’s thinking. Rolling his eyes would be the wrong thing to do, so he simply dials up the intensity of his gaze until he can see a faint flush cross her throat. 

The edge of the fan begins its descent, parting her robe. Somehow--and he doesn’t know how she does it, it makes absolutely no practical sense--when demon bone hits the fabric of her obi, the knot comes free. Sleeves fall around Kagura’s elbows, and a wide slash of pale skin splits between the silk. 

Kagura brings the weapon back up--unfolding it with a practiced hand--and stands, as she slowly fans herself. Once she steps back, widening the space between them, Sesshomaru feels the tension in his back muscles increase with the desire to surge up and pull her close. 

Not yet.  _ Not yet.  _

“You’re doing very well,” Kagura murmurs, obviously impressed. The sides of her robe swirl around her legs as she circles behind Sesshomaru once more. 

He waits. 

There--the tip of her fan pushes between strands of silver hair to rest at the top of his spine, right where it shifts into his neck. If she wanted to kill him--sever the bones, rendering him immobile, or even just push a blade of air straight through his throat--in this moment, she could. They both know it. 

But the knowing is what has earned her the right, to have the chance in her hands. 

The fan disappears.

Kagura’s fingers smooth the strands of his hair back into place. Reverently, one might think. She pulls a  _ little _ , because she can’t resist being a brat; the growl in his chest rumbles again, but he refuses to move. He knows that she’s pleased. 

Then she’s in front of him again, sliding out of her sleeves. Calmly, patiently, the wind witch spreads the robe over the cold floor. Only when her fan is resting flat on the ground, and she’s comfortably seated on the fabric, does she meet his eyes again. 

“Come here.” 

His muscles sing in relief as he falls forward, claws sliding out of his lap to sink into her thighs. She sighs as his forehead rests against her sternum. The bones in Sesshomaru’s spine crack, and Kagura shudders faintly at the noise. For a moment, they stay like that--the pounding of her heart calming him, the sting of his nails easing her. 

Then Sesshomaru rises up with a rough exhale. 

Kagura’s eyes gleam. Clawed hands move up to ring her wrists, and she leans back from the weight. Sesshomaru bites down onto her shoulder--his relieved growl fills the room, mixing with her sharp yelp. 

This is his reward. And hers, as well. 

Kagura’s exclamation of pain turns into keening as his thigh slips between her bare legs. While his purpose is to remain silent, hers is to be as loud as possible. From the combination of claws, teeth, and friction, he helps along as much as he can. 

She delivers. 

The room positively rings with high-pitched curses and moans. Sesshomaru pulls one arm away, to free himself from clothing. Kagura’s arm stays frozen until his grip returns. The frantic jolt of her hips is allowed, and so she twists around where his thigh grinds up into her. When he shoves her across the floor, she whines, only to breathe out in relief as he pulls her back down skin-to-skin. 

His teeth sink into the shell of her ear.  _ Earn it.  _

She moans breathily in response, curling both legs across his back and linking her ankles. When he moves only slightly, teasing her, she laughs in his ear. 

It’s as infuriating as it is perfect. 

Pressing into her, he closes his eyes and lets her cries wash over him. Using his grip on her wrists for leverage, he draws as much noise as he can from Kagura until the powerful haze has faded. 

Beneath him, her entire body heaves, legs trembling. The robe beneath her body is a mess; she won’t want to put it back on tonight. He rests one hand firmly on her chest, willing her to calm down. Fluttering eyelashes give him glimpses of red, darkened by lust into maroon. 

“Kagura.” 

Her name is the first word he’s spoken since they started. She hones in on it like it carries magic. Her breath eases, and his relaxes in turn. Claws release their hold, and she flexes her wrists carefully. Reaching blindly for her fan, she unfolds it and waves air over her neck vigorously. 

He stays looming over her, watching with curious gold eyes. Sometimes, he wonders whether he pushes too far, expecting too much strength--if the shifting of roles is too difficult on her. 

There's no need to worry; the smile Kagura gives him is blissfully content. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse. 

“Are you pleased, my lord?” 

Usually, he hates it when she teases him with sarcastic formality. But for now, Sesshomaru finds himself wondering how any of this could be possible, and bring him so much peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Zayn's Pillowtalk. 
> 
> Inspiration:  
A) The image of Kagura tracing her fan over someone's body.  
B) The very few Inuyasha fics out there with the men in even partially submissive roles.  
C) Sesshomaru absolutely adores Kagura even if he wouldn't phrase it that way.  
D) Lack of Sess/Kagu fics on Archive in general.


	2. Chapter 2

Kagura remembers the first time she ever manipulated the winds-- the single taste of freedom that she’d spent the rest of her life chasing.

It was moments after her creation. Kagura had burst fully formed from her late master’s side, streaked with blood and miasma. Even before her vision cleared, air already whipped around her body. The wind sought guidance that only Kagura with her fan could give. An uncontrollable element, held at her word--the overwhelming, dizzying bliss. 

Straddling the most powerful daiyokai of the Four Lands with her hand resting on his throat feels like that. 

“Eighteen.” Her nails dig in pointedly; he doesn’t even flinch. “Nineteen.  _ Twenty. _ ”

Gold eyes hold steady on her own scarlet gaze, as Sesshomaru remains still. Good; he learned from the last time. Kagura lets her free hand drag through long silver strands and sighs, “Breathe.” 

Lips falling open, he draws air in deeply. Tension leaves his upper body, as he relaxes back into the blankets. Kagura wonders what it feels like for  _ him _ , a creature of immeasurable strength and dignity, to be at her mercy. 

The sorceress’ hand presses down harder on his neck, feeling his pulse quicken. It's more for show than anything else--they both know she isn't strong enough to actually cut off his air supply this way. That’s why they play this game, where she counts and he waits. 

Deep down, Kagura prefers it. 

Sesshomaru’s only broken the rules once, the first time. In response, she called the air in his lungs back to her side. Remembering how his eyes widened, claws digging roughly into her thighs...she squirms at the memory. 

Oh, but hadn’t he gotten back at her for that. Flipped them over like she was nothing, as soon as she’d released her hold on his breath. Then he had spent the better part of an hour painting her entire body with bites, smearing her lipstick with the palm of his hand to hush her cries…

Is it any wonder that Kagura loves to toe the line, when such things are her reward? 

“Again?” Her thumb drags across the moon marking his forehead. At his nod, excitement burns on the back of her tongue like a forbidden sweet. Shifting so she looms over him more majestically, she watches his chest rise with a deep intake of air.

When her palm presses down, he freezes. And with a wicked smile, Kagura whispers, “One.” 

After two more sets of twenty and one of twenty-seven, she can tell he’s getting restless. His body twists beneath her hips, fingers curling and uncurling over her skin to mark her lower body with half-circles of red. This time, when she asks “Again?”, his response is a low, deep growl of her name. 

Kagura understands; watching him deny himself has her own chest heaving. The hand on his throat shakes, and with a firm scrape of her nails she moves it up to rest with its twin at the top of his skull. 

Still, her mischievous nature holds her tongue fast, along with the word that would signal the finale of their game.

“ _ Kagura.” _

Heat circles between her thighs. But still, Kagura counts:

Three.

Two. 

One.

“Go ahead, then.” 

She wants it to come out amused, mocking his inability to hide how much he wants. But Kagura has always been weak for him, and her words sound more desperate than anything else. 

His arms slide under her thighs roughly, dragging her up so fast she nearly hits her head on the wall. The first touch of tongue and teeth between her legs burns and soothes all at once; spots erupt beneath her eyelids while her heart pounds loud enough to burst. 

Kagura has trained him to hold his breath for almost thirty seconds. 

She's undone in nineteen. 

For a creature deprived of oxygen, Sesshomaru’s state of mind is coherent enough to roll Kagura onto her side without hurting either one of them. One bare leg remains stretched over his chest, as the wind witch slumps into the blankets. He moves to push it away, only to be met with a wordless little noise of discomfort. With a huff of annoyance he leaves it be. 

Slowly, their breaths steady. A cold hand brushes strands of hair from his forehead, tracing the shape of his markings. Kagura knows how he feels about a soft touch; her movements are firm, purposeful, and so he doesn’t shy away.

Scarlet eyes glance down to his lips, then back up. Her hand shifts, knuckles swiping roughly against his chin to clean it. 

“Good?” 

He hums in the affirmative. 

Sparks of joy fill her chest. Sesshomaru doesn’t smile, but when she shifts more fully onto her side, he twists so they’re face to face. If her prideful smile surprises him, it’s only by the glint in his eyes that anyone could tell. 

“Maybe next time--” 

Kagura’s words turn into a sharp inhale as the daiyokai’s claws dance along her throat. His thumb presses against an artery, and the headiness is almost immediate.  _ Oh... _

“Give me a few minutes,” she starts to say, only for his hand to fall away just as quickly as he placed it there. More casually than he should, Sesshomaru places the wind witch’s palm below the curve of his jaw. He pushes her grip into the same artery in his own neck. 

“Like that, next time,” he rasps. 

Would anyone believe her if she tried to describe this? Kagura doesn’t even know how she’d try. This power that she has--that he  _ gives _ to her, eagerly and willingly--

Kagura presses down and whispers, “One…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL GUESS WE'RE NOT A ONE-SHOT ANYMORE
> 
> let me know if there's anything else you want from the Sin Store, I've got a gift card


	3. Chapter 3

He arrived back at the estate late enough that Jaken had to bang on the door before the night guard could let them in. Stars had long been visible in the sky, though sunrise was also hours away; the estate loomed silently as Sesshomaru entered, an enormous slumbering beast. 

As soon as the gates were shut, Jaken dragged Ah-Un off to the stables with an overly dramatic yawn. But Sesshomaru himself didn’t feel weary. Unspent energy prickled up and down his spine, sending the muscles in his arms quivering; it was as though, while his mind was well aware that their latest mission was over and done, his body still sought action. 

He wondered whether Kagura was still awake. 

She’d been making long trips in any direction she pleased over the past few weeks, meaning that when she returned home it was mainly to eat and rest. There was little time or energy between the two of them lately. Disappointment burned behind his eyes as he passed her room and found it dark.

Maybe in the morning, then. 

* * *

Tapping on the door interrupted his process of removing each piece of armor and weaponry. So she  _ was _ awake, after all; slipping in like a shadow, face made gold by the candlelight. 

Something about her gait was stiff, and she was clad only in her kosode; had she incurred an injury while he was gone? There was no smell of blood on her, only excitement, as she shut the door and turned to face him. 

“I thought you’d be returning today.” Kagura’s tone was pleasant, though smug in the way that always made his stomach twist with curiosity. “Not quite this late, though.” 

Sesshomaru moved to embrace her, only for the sorceress to dance out of his touch. It just served to stoke the fires of restlessness that chained him. Something wonderful was just within his reach, and from the spark in her eyes, Kagura had been working on it for a while.

“Since you kept me waiting,” she sighed, flicking the knot around her waist so that it unfurled, “now it should be your turn to practice patience.” 

There was an unspoken question in that statement; if given any sign that he was in dire need of rest, Kagura would simply delay the game until morning. 

Sesshomaru reached out, gripping each sleeve and pulling it halfway down her arms in answer. The wind witch smirked, stepping back so that the fabric slid free of his claws. 

_ Well then.  _ His brow wrinkled in momentary confusion. Strips of silk had been tied in wide slashes of rose around Kagura’s sun-tanned arms and legs, like wounds cutting across her skin. Knots rested on the very top of her sternum, her thighs, one hip-bone--gentle indentations of fabric against muscle. 

It should have looked ridiculous. 

And yet, he felt spell-struck. 

“I got bored waiting for you,” Kagura said, as though that was in itself an entire explanation. “It’s only right of you to help me remove them.” 

In response, he gripped her left arm with one hand; there was just enough slack in the silk wrapped around the curve below her shoulder for him to slip a single finger underneath. Just as he started to pull, Kagura’s voice dipped into a wicked sing-song. 

“ _ However,  _ you must leave them all intact. No tearing or ripping or anything of the sort. You are a Lord, after all, not simply a mindless monster.”

Visibly, she held her breath waiting for his reaction. Sesshomaru wondered how long it had taken her to come up with this particular game; if she’d realized that he wasn’t the only one who had to remain patient, in order for it to work. 

“It will be easier if you sit down,” he said finally. As though he’d handed her the sun itself, Kagura beamed and nodded. 

The knots on her arms were easy, even a bit sloppy; she’d presumably had to use one hand and teeth together to do them. Tearing them from her would have scarcely taken more time then the gentle unwinding she’d demanded. Several strips of silk fell to the floor before the buzzing in Sesshomaru’s brain quieted enough for ideas to spark. Though the final tie around her right forearm--her fan arm--was just as simple to tease apart as the others, he purposely took his time with it. Kagura’s chest hitched as his claws scraped delicately over her skin, and when the silk finally came free her arm remained frozen for a second. 

Neither reaction escaped his notice. 

After a quick assessment, he decided to work on the fabric ringing her legs, next. Kagura started a little as his palm slipped under her thigh, pulling it closer for inspection under the candlelight. 

_ These  _ knots were tighter, more difficult to tease out. As the moments passed, the fire in his stomach burned hotter with every small shift of the body under his hands. Pausing, Sesshomaru glanced up at Kagura’s face.

Practiced nonchalance helped shield his surprise. Her eyes were practically glowing, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. How long had she been waiting for him to return, feeling the pressure of the knots digging into her skin, hoping that he would agree to unbind them? 

Keeping his stoic expression, Sesshomaru lifted the sorceress’ leg up, forcing her knee to bend so each ring of fabric pressed harder into her skin. Kagura’s chest heaved as he unknotted the uppermost tie with his teeth. 

Truthfully, it had been mostly free already. But such flair was rewarded: Kagura’s jaw softened, and a little noise popped out of her mouth as he set her leg back down again, letting the now-loose fabric drag slowly across the inside of her thigh. 

By the time the floor was littered with rosen silk, every one of Kagura’s unbound limbs were shaking. Sesshomaru’s own patience was beginning to wear thin; as the witch reared up to try and kiss him, he placed a single hand on her browned shoulder to shove her back down. Before he would allow himself to touch her-- _ truly  _ touch her--she must have full range of movement. 

They could experiment with the alternatives later. 

A strangled whine reached his ears, but was ignored in favor of inspecting the tie around her stomach. Kagura swore loudly as he slipped a few fingers between the fabric and skin. No matter how delicately he teased the knot apart, his claws scratched red lines against her. After two instances of pushing insistent hips down, he finally snapped.

“Stay  _ still. _ ” 

“Hurry up,” she snarled back, desperation turning the fire of her temper into smoke. “It didn’t take me this damn long to put them on, for gods’ sake--” 

The knot against her hip was easily freed, the rise and dip of bone offering more of a gap between the silk and her body. All that remained was the one crossing her chest. 

Two fingers hooked around the fabric, pulling to test the tightness of the knot. Kagura arched her back up from the bed to follow his grip, and a burst of pleasure erupted in his ears. 

“Stay still,” he said again, more carefully than the first time. She obeyed, and it made his entire being ache. Beneath his ministrations, her heart pounded heavily in a quickening rhythm. 

The game had started with the intention to tease him, to make him desperate. Yet here Kagura was--each limb stretched out against the bed, biting her lip so hard it was a wonder she hadn’t drawn blood. Clinging to  _ his  _ words so as not to fall apart. 

The last stretch of silk fell away, leaving a slight indentation across her body. Kagura stayed frozen for a moment more. Gold eyes smoldering, Sesshomaru felt at a loss for what magic thing would break the spell that had come over them. Was it the same as it was for their other games? 

Finally, he spoke. “There. You are free.” 

Blood-red eyes sharpened into focus. Then she pounced--flinging both arms around his neck, practically slamming their mouths together as she crawled into his lap--and Sesshomaru decided there was some benefits to arriving home later than expected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point we're just playing kink bingo so if y'all have ideas post them and they might show up in future chapters


	4. Chapter Four

CW: Mentions of past trauma, specifically being restrained

Kagura is nosy by nature.

After all, knowledge has always been power--the soft underbelly of a secret is the best place to sink one's teeth. Sesshomaru knows this, just as he knows exactly who and what she is. Thus, he should know better than to leave her waiting alone in his quarters and expect good behavior.

Especially after a full day of teasing. 

So, instead of lying back on the bed in wait (like she was instructed to do), Kagura decides to dig through the chest on the other side of the room. Specifically, the chest that is usually locked; tonight, there's an inviting line of black between the lid's closure and latch.

It's practically an  _ invitation. _

Once she has her hands in the contents, it turns out that the mystery itself contributed most of the excitement. She's seen most of these things before. Old daggers and swords, none of which he uses regularly now that he has mastered Tensaiga and procured Bakusaiga; a few pieces of armor, perhaps won from an enemy, perhaps gifts. Kagura smirks as she notes a few things that they've made creative use of already--a rolled stretch of rope and a few glass vials of ink.

Her heart jumps into her throat, thudding wildly, as the door slams behind her.

"Ah, finally. I was getting bored waiting for you." Standing, she finds a careless smile to throw his way. The eyes that stare back at her are dark, but Kagura feels no fear. In this place, during this game, she is not the one who must find self-control. Returning to the bed, she stretches languidly--if he’s going to look so intently, might as well make it worthwhile.

One foot points towards the chest. "Who knew you were the sentimental type."

Sesshomaru sits among the blankets, ignoring her commentary. An idea buzzes happily in her mind as he moves within her reach. "Hey." 

"Hm."

Dancing nails up his arm, she purrs, "Go pick something out from there, and I'll work it into what we're doing tonight."

He looks at her hand, then her mouth, and nods. The action confirms it--the unlatching of the chest was no accident after all. He was hoping for something, and now she gets a chance to deliver it.

"Don't take too long, or I'll get bored again."

She reclines with a smirk. Her warning is unnecessary; Sesshomaru doesn't take more than a moment to choose. However, when he turns around to unfurl a long stretch of steel chain, Kagura's excitement turns to dread. 

_ Not that. _

Scarves, rope, his wrists--those are all red-hot sunbursts that make her bubble over with excitement, because they hold her together just as much as they hold her down. With them, there's a blissful moment when as she comes undone, so do they.

Kagura could never suffocate under that grip.

But chains are an icy black-blue, pulling her beneath something she can't break free from. The rough metal does not want to steady her. No, it wants to break her, tighten until she cracks. Why else had Naraku chosen to trap her with it, every time he wanted to punish her?

"Kagura."

She realizes she's frozen. Stiffness has wound its way through her shoulders, down to where her fan sits unfurled in one hand. Sesshomaru says her name again, and she tears her gaze from the chain to meet his eyes. There's no disappointment or confusion in his expression, simply curiosity.

As if waking from a dream, she remembers that Naraku is dead, and that she has a beating heart in her chest.

"You must not lose focus." At the tick of his eyebrow, she flushes and closes her fan with a snap, setting it aside.

"Of course." It's fine--it  _ has _ to be fine. In this space, she's the one in control. "Come here."

In two strides, he's standing before her, setting the chain into her hands. Despite her determination, the weight of it makes her recoil. Frustration--at him for picking the worst possible option, at herself for not being able to deal with it--twists into a violent tangle in her chest. It wasn't supposed to be  _ her  _ softness on display tonight. Before she can say anything, the weight lifts. 

Sesshomaru sets the chain aside; jaw set, he appraises her. The pressure in her chest increases. She despises this, how quickly and completely it's taken her over. How quickly it's ruined what was supposed to be a lovely night.

But Sesshomaru has no intentions to accept an end that neither of them want.

"You are not the one who will be restrained," he says. The steady tone of his voice calms her immediately--there is no pity here, nor judgment. He turns his back, and Kagura takes the opportunity to pull herself together.

When the tightness in her chest has lifted enough that she can look at the chain again, she sees that he has wrapped a pair of scarves around the length of steel. Now when she takes the weapon in hand, smooth silk softens the biting coolness.

Both shoulders loosen--the weight is less unsettling when she knows it won't bear down on  _ her  _ wrists, or be wrapped around  _ her  _ collarbone.

Because Naraku is dead, and she is free.

Because she is in control, at this moment.

"Come here," she says--voice soft, though at least it doesn't waver. Sesshomaru calmly settles on his knees in front of her. His elbows dig into her lap, and the weight of them is surprisingly distracting. He presents his forearms, and Kagura begins to wind the chain around them. 

Despite how much she knows he tries to hide it, his breath evens out with every pull of steel against skin. With only a brief flare of power, he could rip the links apart as easily as if they were made of paper--but Kagura knows he wouldn't, not unless she told him to. This close, she can watch his pupils dilate, and thanks to the scarves acting as a barrier, her earlier excitement finally starts to flood back. 

"You enjoy this, don't you." Folding her hands on top of his, she presses his arms harder into the tops of her thighs. "Being on your knees before me."

He doesn't answer; it's not required, although if he did there would be handsome rewards for it. With how many years they (hopefully) have ahead of them, Kagura can dream.

"Tell me why you picked the chain." Her lips brush over the marks on one side of his face. 

Sesshomaru's eyes close briefly at the warmth of her breath before he responds. “The rope and scarves are yours. This is mine.” 

Kagura chuckles, still bearing the weight down. “Is my word not enough to hold you?” 

“You know it is,” he growls. And despite her teasing, Kagura understands. For her, the chain’s pressure is sharp and unpleasant. But for him, a man who can be mastered by little in the world, those same sensations are a relief. 

With that, her discomfort ebbs, replaced with a wave of affection. Sesshomaru has allowed  _ her _ , of all people, to craft the details of his submission. When the roles shift, she will not have to endure the chain--as much as they experiment with each other’s limits, there are some things one cannot ask of another--but that is all right, because she can trust him in turn.

What she can’t do, is get what she wants done with him sitting on the floor. 

Pushing his arms off of her lap, she smirks. “Come up here.” 

For a while, things are blissful--swollen lips, tangled hair, red lines that disappear almost immediately on his skin--until the chain presents another dilemma. With Sesshomaru sitting on the edge of the bed and Kagura in his lap, the scent of metal clouds her senses. His locked-together arms sit between them; Kagura curls her own hands around them to keep from falling. Every time she moves to kiss him, steel links prod her sweat-dampened skin. 

And despite all of the logic and reasoning at her disposal, it’s too unsettling. 

“Lift them up.” 

Once his arms are raised above their heads, she hisses, “Hold them there until I say to stop.”

Sesshomaru pushes forward to kiss her as his answer, and she has to squeeze her thighs tight around his hips to keep from toppling over. The arms in their restraints sink a quarter of an inch as her teeth scrape his bottom lip.

“Make me forget everything else except this moment,” she breathes, and it sounds just as much a plea as it does an order. “And then you can drop them.” 

* * *

At the end of the night, they lie side-by-side.  Kagura finds the limp pieces of silk and unwinds the chain from Sesshomaru’s arms. The faint bruising will disappear from his skin within minutes--she knows he can’t even feel it, not from something so ordinary. 

“Your self-control is quite impressive.” Hoarseness softens the edge of pride in her voice. She tosses the chain over the edge of the bed, where it lands with an unceremonious clank on the floor. As soon as it’s out of sight, the space between her shoulder-blades burns with exhaustion. 

Sesshomaru flexes one wrist, then the other. When his gaze returns to Kagura’s face, she gives him a smile. 

Before she can harness all the energy she has left to form the words  _ I’m alright, _ the daiyokai pulls her to his side of the bed. 

“You did well," he says simply. "Rest, now.” 

Cold cheek pressed to his chest, Kagura acknowledges the weight of his grip around her waist. The last thing she sees as her eyes flutter closed is the hazy outline of the chest. 

Maybe tomorrow she'll find an excuse to go through it again.   



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind these chapters are one-shots and thus not necessarily linear; so while in this chapter they are married, they may not be in other chapters posted after this one.

Kagura slams one hand against the wall, letting loose a string of curses. Sesshomaru, standing tense behind her, understands the impulse; his claws are itching to rip apart every single Lord and Lady still sitting in the room upstairs. 

Three hours of stupid, pointless conversations--droning announcements of marriages, births, and deaths; the public signing of two treaties between minor Western tribes; and worst of all, a discussion on cross-border trade ettiquette that devolved into a screaming match--has done the opposite of exhausting Sesshomaru or his wife. Instead, when Kagura catches his eye over her shoulder, there’s an almost unbearable surge of energy crackling between them. 

That look, and the dangerous implications of it, is why they are currently downstairs.

“Self-obsessed toddlers, throwing tantrums in a meeting!” Kagura pounds the wall again. Without her wind powers behind it, the collision simply results in a dull thud. “Can’t we just fucking  _ kill  _ them all and start over with a new court?”

Sesshomaru shakes his head in answer--such an aggressive approach would cause more problems than it would solve, cathartic as it would be. 

“The nerve of that bastard, to scream in my face like that!” Her voice shifts abruptly from incredulous laughter to a snarl, as though she is the one with venom in her blood. “Ugh, I just want to _ destroy  _ something. Preferably the face of that fucking wolf--”

Fists clenched, the wind witch heads back towards the stairs. Sesshomaru’s arm stops her in her tracks. 

His tone carries no room for discussion. “Calm yourself first.” 

“Don’t order me around,” Kagura spits, but doesn’t take another step. When Sesshomaru pushes her back, she follows the direction, albeit with a dark frown. In a moment they are pressed against the wall across from the staircase. This way, the two of them are fairly hidden--someone would have to entirely descend to notice their position. 

Kagura’s frustration is obvious, forcing her breath to be short and shallow. Despite this, Sesshomaru doesn’t remove his forearm from where it presses across her chest. He knows Kagura, and so he also knows that if she steps back into the room while the lesser Lords and Ladies of their lands are still arguing, then she’s liable to snap. It’s been hard enough for her to earn their respect as a former servant of Naraku, as well as having no lands or tribe of her own. If she loses her temper in front of them today, then the release will come with a high social cost. 

“It will be over soon,” he says. It is as much to himself as to her, not that Kagura would know it. “Calm down.” 

Red eyes burn with equal parts desperation and indignation. “Make me.” 

Blunt nails claws at his forearm with one hand; Kagura’s other hand pulls at his belt, and Sesshomaru finally  _ understands.  _

Kagura inhales deeply as the weight across her chest lifts; whatever she might have said is lost in a loud, high-pitched noise when Sesshomaru grips her hips, pressing their bodies together. 

“Shh,” he hisses sharply in her ear. Only when his wife’s head thumps against the wall in a nod, does he move harder against her. One knee pushes between her legs, and his own bright, stinging rage starts to melt into something much more pleasant. 

For much of her life, Kagura’s emotions have been the only thing she had that was not ruled by another; Sesshomaru knows this. Since her former master’s death and her ascension to the position of a Lady, however, she has more often been able to twist and turn her desires to some benefit. Demands of her heart that were once like shiny baubles--useless, but comforting--are now deep wells of power. 

At this moment, she cannot have the heads of every one of the Lords and Ladies upstairs on a platter. But she can have his hands on her. 

It has become Sesshomaru’s duty to remind her of that.

He scrunches the layers of fabric draping her hips with both hands to get as close to the core of her as possible, without pulling her robes completely apart. Kissing her only lasts a few seconds before he’s met with the teasing flick of her tongue. 

Neither of them bother to look back at the staircase. No one will come looking for them, or expect either of them to return, for at least five minutes. If there was more time, Sesshomaru considers, Kagura’s clothes would be in a heap on the floor so that he could press inside her. The thought makes his chest ache, and only the knowledge that the meeting will have to end  _ eventually _ can calm it. 

They’ll do things properly later. For now, the steady circle of her hips against his thigh will have to be enough of a relief. 

Breathing hard, Kagura pulls away to bury her face against his shoulder. Heat unwinds in the pit of Sesshomaru’s stomach as he registers the fluttering of her throat--noises she’s holding back, teeth bearing down on her bottom lip with the effort. 

Has he really neglected her so long for this to be that intense, even with layers of clothes between them? Or is she just relieved to have an outlet for the bevy of emotion ruling her better judgment?

Or, he thinks with surging interest, perhaps it is the faint possibility of being caught…

Another minute ticks by as he’s considering such things; then, Sesshomaru is jostled from the thought by cool lips brushing the outer shell of his ear. 

“Touch me,” Kagura hisses, legs sliding further apart. 

“Not now,” her husband replies--not to be cruel, never to be cruel. The wind witch growls in frustration, and he sinks his teeth into the side of her neck to signal a truce. Kimono-clad hips stutter in response, and the soft sigh that escapes sends his heart racing. Thoughtlessly, he mumbles against her skin, “Behave.” 

“That’s not something I’m good at,” she teases back, only to pitch forward with a whimper as his tongue brushes the fresh bite. Sesshomaru knows she’s capable of self-restraint, even if she doesn't employ it often; he continues to worry the mark, still moving steadily against her. 

All at once, Kagura flinches; one hand claps over her mouth while the other wraps tightly around his waist. Pressed between his body and the wall, she writhes with muffled cries. 

Sesshomaru is surprised, but not displeased; it isn’t often that she comes so quickly. When Kagura finally stills and looks at him again, perhaps it is this gratification that makes her cheeks burn. 

For a moment, neither say a word. Kagura’s fingers waltz up and down the ladder of his spine, but as much as he loves her, Sesshomaru’s release is too far away to accomplish in the time they have left. 

“We must return,” he points out. “Keep your composure, and the rest of the meeting will go quickly.” 

For a brief moment Kagura is pouting; then something wicked finds its way into her eyes. It only brightens in her gaze as he pulls away from the wall. 

Adjusting the neck of her robe to hide the mark where Sesshomaru has bitten her, Kagura speaks in a low voice. “Then I’ll return this favor you’ve granted me the_ moment_ it’s over.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote about Kagura's emotional dysfunction affecting their sex life, now have Sesshomaru's in this weird little chapter. 
> 
> Song inspiration:  
Lottery by Dinah Jane

The fabric that blinds him is soft and silken. It wraps twice around his head, finished off with a tight knot against the back of his skull. The lanterns in the room have dimmed enough that no light bleeds through; leaving him in darkness.

He wonders what Kagura’s purpose is, to request such a thing. If this is part of a game, then the loss of a single sense will do little to put things in her favor. Perhaps she’s forgotten what an exceptional breed of demon he is. 

As if on cue, breath hits the back of his neck. Sesshomaru refuses to flinch as the wind witch presses herself up against him. Teeth sink briefly into the spot between his shoulder and neck, worrying the skin for half a second before she pulls away.

“Can you see anything?”

Beneath the fabric, Sesshomaru rolls his eyes. “No.”

Kagura’s voice is practically a purr. “Good.” Then the weight of her body is gone, soft footfalls indicating her circling around him. “You may not remove it.” 

He waits silently as she settles on the cushion across from him. There’s a gentle clink of two cups, a gurgle of water from a jug—none of which she bothers to explain. 

“You will stay still. I’ll tell you when to move.” 

He hums affirmatively. Both ears have picked up the steady pulse of her heart; nothing too exciting yet, but because Sesshomaru knows her, he presses both palms into the floor in preparation. 

It is interesting to note how his mind pinpoints each minute noise, rather than filter it out as usual. In the darkness, he imagines the visual of each moment as it passes: Kagura’s careless smirk as she tugs on the knot to test its strength. The contents of her cup sloshing. The faint burning of the lanterns as they dim further.

How long before the room goes dark? Will she let him look, then? 

The lip of a cup presses against his mouth: water. He allows himself one sip, letting the coolness sit on his tongue for a long moment before swallowing. Kagura makes a soft noise of something like praise. His stomach twists. 

“Stay still,” she orders, and he wonders why she feels the need to remind him. Then there’s more noise--the drag of silk against silk, her cushion shifting. It would puzzle some in the same position, but Sesshomaru identifies it immediately.

She’s touching herself, when she knows he can’t see it. 

The sharp clench of his jaw earns a breathy laugh from the wind witch, but it hardly registers. As sensory clues wash over him, something very strange happens. Beneath his arousal and frustration, even beneath the  _ need  _ to touch, is the barest flare of unease. 

Kagura has always been trustworthy in these games they play; he’s never regretted relinquishing all power to her word. In this chamber, his status and abilities mean nothing—the attention is a gift, not something to be earned. But right now, Sesshomaru cannot believe that she will delight in him. 

To admit to such insecurity would be ridiculous, humiliating—but the thoughts stretch to pull his attention away from Kagura’s performance. Is she planning to finish herself off, leaving him denied? And logically he knows the purpose is what it always is, to tease and test his self-control. But instead of temptation, the burn in his chest feels more like rejection. 

Sesshomaru has not often held the position of being unneeded. It is but a single step away from being un _ wanted _ .

Her shuffling ceases, and he frowns at being caught. Wet fingers rest against his lips, but there is only a thoughtful silence as he cleans them. 

““You’re distracted.” Kagura says finally. “What’s wrong?” 

Every bone in his body goes rigid; this is the wrong sort of weakness, that which he is feeling. The game is meant to entice, to relieve,  _ not  _ to torment. But he cannot speak the truth aloud, and so he says nothing at all. 

A cool breeze hits one side of his body as she circles him. Then sharp nails twist the knot, and the blindfold slips free. Without knowing why he does it, Sesshomaru closes his eyes. 

“I didn’t expect you to get all broody over something so simple.” Callous words conflict sharply with the firm, grounding pressure of her hands on his shoulders. Long moments pass as she kneads the muscle there. Sesshomaru feels her scent envelop him and the dark ocean in his mind begins to recede. 

“After all, you still had my scent and sound to enjoy.” Pressing her lips to one side of his head, she whispers secretively, “Are you really so  _ attached,  _ my Lord?” 

Sparks catch in his chest. The urge to tug her into his arms, to mark her skin, is overwhelming. Sesshomaru cannot understand where it comes from, this sudden aversion to being out of control. 

Kagura must sense it; her hands trace over his still-closed eyes, and she whispers again. 

“I’ve never known you to be needy. Well, not this kind of needy.” Fingers fall away, taking the blindfold with them. The embarrassment is only bearable because of the knowledge that she would not ever truly use it against him. Still, it burns nonetheless. Sesshomaru wonders if she’ll end the session now, but after a few more silent moments Kagura breathes, “Look at me.” 

His eyes open slowly, and he’s equal parts puzzled and intrigued to see the silk is now wrapped around Kagura’s own eyes. Is she expecting the roles to switch, because of his incompetence? 

He is given his answer when she tightens the knot and settles back on both elbows. Despite her sightlessness, the wind witch’s tone is still commanding. “Now touch yourself until I tell you to stop.” 

It’s not the usual way of things, he knows. The one deprived of sight (or breath, or freedom of movement) is typically also the one deprived of control. Disadvantage has always been a mark of submission, for both of them. Yet somehow, the contradiction between her words and actions lifts an invisible burden free from his shoulders. 

“Don’t hold back,” Kagura adds, dragging one hand up the curve of her own thigh. “I’ll need the signs that you’re enjoying yourself to be  _ very _ clear.” 

She can’t see him nod. His stomach twists as he growls out, “Fine.” 

Beneath the stretch of silk, Kagura smirks as though she owns the world itself. 


	7. Chapter 7

Tree bark bites roughly into the palms of Kagura’s hands. She straightens against the tree, trying to keep from smirking. Sesshomaru’s face as he leans in close is dappled with light; it comes in bright streaks through the clouds of green leaves above, and doesn’t soften his expression one bit. 

“You caught me.” 

Her name is a curse in his mouth as his weight pushes her harder against the tree. One clawed hand circles her thigh; Kagura inhales sharply, all too aware of how it mimics surprise. For a moment, her focus is detached, attentive only to the wind rippling through the branches above. The way the gusts tease, shaking the hand-wide shadows of leaves that mark the bark…

Then his aura floods her senses, dragging her attention back down to earth.

_ Don’t think we’re done playing, yet.  _

“Took you long enough,” she sighs, lifting her chin. The resulting glare he gives sends shivers down her spine. Sesshomaru always says how much he  _ hates  _ her teasing; and why shouldn’t he, when he’s clearly above chasing any creature down? Only, Kagura knows better. 

Without a game, there’s no prize.

Stretching her head back to lock eyes with him, she clicks her tongue. “Not counting my head start, it took you thirty two seconds. That’s not exactly your best.”

Sesshomaru’s hand grips her leg more firmly. A jolt of  _ want _ zips through her, at the gentle prick of claws through fabric. It takes more willpower than Kagura thought she had, to resist dragging his face down and turning the pale hollow of his throat red.

“Jaken was nearby.” He says finally. Despite the fact that she wasn’t asking for an explanation for his lateness, just teasing. Kagura’s arousal wanes significantly.

“Don’t tell me he’s—“

Hauling her leg up over his hip, the Western Lord shakes his head. “Left behind.”

“How far away from us?” The hope in her voice is hard to smother, but she’s practiced enough to just about manage it.

Gold eyes glint with something that might be as wicked as she is. “Far enough.” 

Then her other leg is yanked upwards, wrapping around his opposite hip; Kagura has no choice but to slide both arms around his shoulders to keep from falling. Warmth spreads across her front, in sharp contrast to the coolness of the tree against her back, as Sesshomaru leans his weight against her. 

_ Well and truly trapped,  _ she thinks smugly. 

His mouth on hers is insistent, matching the friction of their still-clothed hips moving together. Kagura can’t help but feel pleased with herself. It’s good that he’s finally allowed himself to be the one to chase. After all, only now will Kagura allow herself to be caught.

Only now, when she can close her eyes to draw forth memories of his solid, unmoving form waiting for a command. 

Only now, when at the brush of her fingers through his hair she can feel the barest shudder course through him. 

Trust-- _ in her, in this, in them-- _ has replaced his pride. In reward, Kagura will craft a thousand games. 

“Down,” she mumbles against his mouth, and he leans back to obey. As soon as her bare feet touch the rough, springy roots of the tree, Kagura’s hands are working the knot of her obi free. Sesshomaru’s eyes stay on her, tracing the shadows and light bouncing off her skin. When the belt is free, she tosses it around his neck, knotting the ends in a loose bow that any servant woman would slap her for. 

His jaw twitches. “What are you--” 

“This is your prize for round one,” she breathes, stretching up to press a kiss to his mouth. If her teeth sink in a little too hard on his bottom lip, then it’s a treat more than anything; the rumble in the back of Sesshomaru’s throat makes that all too clear. Only after she’s on the edge of dizziness does she continue. “Your prize for round two will be the first layer. Round three, the second.” 

He tilts his head slightly, as though considering whether she’s actually bold enough to run around the forest in her kosode just to keep things interesting. Kagura lets another kiss make things clear. 

“You will receive a five second head start,” Sesshomaru says finally. His fingers close on the fold of her kimono, giving it a slight tug. Kagura hunches her shoulders to keep it from slipping, barely holding in her smile. “Stay within the borders of the forest only.”

“I know the rules.” Pressing a knee into his thigh, she pushes him away from the tree so she has room to plot her escape. Sesshomaru’s face may be neutral when he turns away, but now that she’s seen that look in his eye Kagura has no intentions of ever letting it go. “Count for me?” 

His gaze drifts up to the canopy of green that shields them from the rest of the world. “One. Two. Thr--”

A touch too early to count, but not late enough to be considered cheating. Kagura races off through the trees, numerous winds hastening her flight and a pounding heartbeat in her ears.

_ Catch me, catch me, catch me. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so blessed for all the love on this fic and my other SessKagu stuff. I stayed up extra late to update this one and to work on the later (y'all are getting a loooooong chapter for that soon). <3 I appreciate you all so much

Thunder shakes the windowsill, startling him awake. Curled up on the other side of the bed, Kagura‘s snoring breaks off into incoherent mumbles. 

Flashes of white streak through the dust lining the room’s furniture, followed by more distant rumbling. In the dead of summer, the marriage of rain and heat in the air creates a suffocating stickiness that reaches all the way to the seaside. The stone walls of Sesshomaru’s castle offer some measure of relief, though it’s helped along by the breeze that trails behind his wind witch as she moves through the halls. 

She’s in a poor mood lately, thanks to the unbearable temperatures and a lack of entertainment. Tonight’s storm will hopefully ease the first of the two. As for the latter...well, they are more than capable of amusing each other. 

Rolling over, Sesshomaru reaches out to drag a hand down his bedmate’s bare arm. The resulting shiver shows that she’s awake (if only halfway). A firm press of his thumb is all it takes for her to twist, so that they are chest-to-chest. 

A sheen of sweat decorates her collarbone and the curve of her brow; otherwise, Kagura’s face remains as smooth as though she were still sleeping. Lightning turns her skin blue-white the moment his palm slides over her ribs. When she hooks her leg over his hip, still murmuring senselessly, he knows the dry ache in his throat has nothing to do with the heat. 

Rain--pattering gently at first, then a rapid deluge--hits the window. If he sat up, he would be able to see the shade darken as it soaks through. 

Another clap of thunder, and Kagura’s eyes crack open. 

She stretches, yawning. Sesshomaru slides forward, head dipped as though to kiss her. Both of the sorceress’ eyes open fully when he doesn’t--instead, he lingers just close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

But no further. 

Kagura sticks her tongue out, straining to touch it to his lips. Foolish witch; even in the middle of the night, still half-asleep, she’s annoying. His gravelly whisper of admonishment does nothing to stop her from sliding a hand in between them. Not that he intended it to, anyway. 

To be inside of her is a much more welcome heat. 

When lightning sparks in the corner of his vision again, Sesshomaru brings his free hand up to rest over the curve of her throat. Not pressing, _ certainly _ not crushing. And only firm enough to feel her pulse quicken. Kagura’s soft whine would be lost to the clatter of rain and thunder, if they were outdoors. The leg locked over his hip tightens, and he grunts aloud as he slides deeper into her. 

Long minutes pass as the storm wears away the night; Sesshomaru lets himself be lost in it. This is a rare moment where there are no games, no words to spin her careful magic with a beginning and middle and end. Perhaps she feels it too, because then Kagura jolts--moving her arm up, so that his hand covers her lips instead. 

Sesshomaru pauses. The curve of his palm fits neatly here, too, the press of his thumb meeting her cheekbone. Kagura’s eyes burn, and the thud of her foot against the back of his thigh is soundly ignored. Carefully, he curves his wrist up to mold the heel of his hand against the sorceress’ chin, so he’s not pulling down on her jaw. It’s the pressure that she wants ( _ a suggestion of strength, I suppose you could call it _ ), not a lack of air. That was something established early on in their games--no matter what other parts of her are restrained, she must always be free to breathe. He doesn’t understand it, but then Sesshomaru has never choked to death on his own blood.

He brushes away the righteous rage that comes along with such a fact. None of that matters now--she’s here, a storm of a woman in his bed. They are free to have each other as they like. 

When she kicks him again, he jerks his hips upward with purposeful roughness. Kagura gives a muffled moan at the same exact moment that a peal of thunder cracks right above them. He can’t help but mirror the sound, despite knowing that she will tease him for it later. 

Then it’s Kagura’s own fingers that press over his mouth. Her thumb pushes against his jaw, and a ripple of indignation runs through him; it is closely followed by wonder.  _ How  _ is she always able to do this? To pry control free from his claws and hold it fast over his head, and every single time make him glad for it? Because Sesshomaru knows that he could pull out of her grip, and though she would laugh at him Kagura wouldn’t fight him over it. Yet, as soon as his breath is stopped by the sweat of her palm, he feels bound to keep it there.

Blown-wide pupils search his face excitedly. Obediently (and though he would never openly allow himself to be labeled as such, obedient is also the one thing he will always strive to be for her so long as they are like this), Sesshomaru’s lips part to let the sharpness of his fangs tease against skin. Kagura only presses harder, matching the force with her hips. Both reactions send a rush of pleasure up the length of his spine; it takes more self-control than he’s likely to admit to for him to keep the weight over her mouth light. 

Perhaps his earlier question of how doesn’t matter. Even if the logical answer is  _ because he allows it, _ she is the one who must know the question exists in order to ask. Lightning comes before thunder, and thunder can’t exist without lightning. 

Kagura’s thighs shake, as light crashes in through the window once more. Sesshomaru knows he will follow her for many nights to come. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sesshomaru isn’t a stupid man. He knows that Kagura is only being quiet right now because she's incredibly pissed off. 

The cause of her ire is equally split between two factors. One: Instead of being locked away in his empty fortress, they are currently celebrating the Winter Solstice at his mother’s castle. _ The longest night of the year, _ she’d hummed before taking another generous sip of plum wine. _ Imagine what use we could have made of it. _

But there will be other nights, so the second factor remains the greater insult--the bright-eyed daughter of a wolf demon tribe from the Eastern Lands, who has spent the last thirty minutes at his elbow, hinting at a marriage-based alliance.

As Inuyasha has already been long-wed, it’s obvious who she means to match with. What is somehow not obvious is Sesshomaru’s not particularly kind rejections, along with Kagura’s increasing annoyance as the minutes tick by.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. The relative peace of his lands, and the power it takes to achieve, is well-known among yokai clans. His relationship with Kagura has also not yet materialized into an official engagement. Even so, the wolf girl is bold to suggest such things right in front of the wind witch’s face. 

This time, his blunt rejection is followed by an excuse to step away. The girl smiles sweetly, as though their conversation is all a game; he wonders incredulously if it is a trait rooted in personality or breed. Regardless, to continue would be to her detriment. It is only Kagura’s quite reasonable fear of his mother’s wrath that prevents her from tossing the girl through one of the room’s large glass windows. 

To equal apprehension and relief, the wolf girl remains in place as he walks away. Unfortunately, Sesshomaru is met with a new challenge--Kagura, draining her glass and shouldering him aside. The words out of the corner of her mouth are jagged, cut down to the quick.

“Servant’s hall. _ Now _.” 

He waits a few beats, to remind her that he cannot be ordered about, especially in public. Then, Sesshomaru follows her to the hall tucked away on one end of the castle ballroom. 

As soon as they are shielded by shadows, she turns on him. “Not a single one of the yokai in that room will dare to touch me this evening. Why do you think that is?” 

A wide eyed kitchen maid stumbles out the door to their left; Sesshomaru barks at her to go, and she scurries down the hall in fright. Kagura hasn't even taken her eyes off of him. Instead, she answers her own question. 

“It's nothing to do with the fact that I’m an incarnation, or that I don’t belong to any clan. It's because they _ know _. By my scent, by my place at your side, it’s clear that I am yours.” 

From her clipped tone to the squareness of her shoulders, everything makes Sesshomaru dizzy. He considers whether his mother has drugged the wine, to play some kind of joke. The sensation is so unsettling that when Kagura steps forward, he actually finds himself driven back a step. 

“So why,” the witch hisses, “can't those same people tell that _ you _ are _ mine?” _

Then her palm is pressed flat against the collar of his robe, her other hand tightening on Bakisaiga’s hilt. Sesshomaru freezes, his whole world reduced to the storm in her eyes. Her fingers press into the base of his throat in a clear challenge. 

He considers the facts.

One: They're in his mother’s castle. 

Two: There are two hundred yokai on the other side of the wall. Including his mother, and Jaken. Both of whom would have way too many things to say if he was to be caught in such a position.

Three: He wants her so much that it's a bit embarrassing.

Kagura’s grip tightens. He wonders for a split second if she’s about to start counting; but when she speaks, it’s not an order. 

“Perhaps it doesn’t bother you.” 

He takes several seconds to process that before dismissing it as nonsensical. “Hm?” 

“I didn’t think you felt uncared for--” The hand on Bakusaiga’s hilt slides sideways, the pressure on his throat remaining firm. “--but then again, it’s impossible to understand your moods.”

“Kagura--” 

She tilts her head, eyebrow cocked. “Shall I call that wolf tribe member over, instead? She’s been fawning over you all night. It’s embarrassing to watch.” 

Not nearly as embarrassing as it would be for anyone, but especially someone he knew, to find them here. Yet, when her lips find the curve of his jaw, Sesshomaru simply lifts his chin to give her more room. 

“Good.” Her praise sets a warmth in his chest that makes him wish they were in opposite places--that she was up against the wall, his hand tracing her lower body. As if she can tell what he’s thinking, Kagura presses up on her tiptoes to sink her teeth into his ear. The hand slipped beneath the folds of his clothes moves faster, in the rhythm that she knows he likes. 

The colors of the world fade away, as though her weight on his throat were actually cutting off his breath. He’s been alive for hundreds of years, knows most of what there is to know and some things that he perhaps should not--but with her, none of that means a thing. Sesshomaru’s power, his experience, his talents, earn him no praise here--just as his failures, his unworthy actions, his selfishness lose nothing. All that he must do is follow what Kagura asks of him. 

Kagura’s body curves to hide as much of their current position as possible, as he settles flat against the wall. Both of Sesshomaru’s eyes close, to better focus his other senses. His nails dig into the wall the way he wishes they were digging into her skin. Lilting words help Kagura’s hand along as much as possible, painting the picture of a memory. _ Remember that day in the woods, when you caught me for the last time? You’d won all my prizes already, I was aching for you… _

It feels like it lasts forever, and yet no time at all. 

“_Mine _,” Kagura hisses in his ear, as he exhales in a single, sharp breath. Easing the pressure off from his neck, she smirks. “Aren’t you?” 

The hallway is empty, and from what he can tell scent-wise, they remain uncaught. He rolls his eyes, still held to the wall. Obviously he could just push her away, but--”Yes.”

Pride blooms in her expression; she pulls away with a smug smile. “You never say it unless I persuade you.” 

Regardless of whether or not he says it, they both already know. The point of _ making _him is the same reason why it’s true. Shaking himself a bit, Sesshomaru mutters, “And you say my moods are impossible.”

“I feel much better now. Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy yourself, too.” Winking, she rotates her wrist one way, then the other. "Are you going to make me wait through the longest night of the year for my turn?"

He leans down until they're nose-to-nose. "That is not something you'd dislike." 

Kagura grins. "Now that I think about it, one of your mother's generals was standing quite close..." 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short, but hopefully still sweet?

Inspired by an art piece/concept by [@lovenlu](https://lovenlu-arts.tumblr.com/tagged/sesskagu)

* * *

“Was that a sound?”

The thighs on either side of his hips tremble. As Kagura shakes her head frantically, a bead of sweat slides down the tip of her nose. Sesshomaru’s eyes lock on it, because it is too dangerous to look anywhere else. 

_ She planted the idea in his mind days ago. Nimble fingers picking at a ruby-red ribbon (the same one that now stretches across his throat, practically burning his skin with each hitching breath), his wind witch had set the rules with a wink.  _

_ "You’d look pretty with this tied around your neck…" _

Hips faltering, he forces his shoulders back so the tension of his throat won’t rip the stupid thing. For if he does, there will be consequences. And though Sesshomaru isn’t pathetic enough to care about a forced dry spell or anything like that, failure in situations of unimportance is still failure. 

He especially has no intentions to disappoint when it comes to  _ this.  _

The bead of sweat drops to his chest. Kagura leans down, quick as anything, to lick the spot where it falls. She's a worthy opponent; a strangled noise that must come from him vibrates in Sesshomaru's ears, and the witch smirks. 

Sesshomaru breathes out roughly, resisting the urge to swallow. Luckily, the game isn’t totally unfair. Kagura has her own challenge--one that he can see she is struggling to match, the barely smothered noises making her throat flutter. 

_ She'd licked her lips and danced two fingers up his thigh. "How about this? If I make a sound, then you can go ahead and rip the damn thing to pieces."  _

It was foolish of her to relinquish such power. They’re in her favorite position--him on his back, one hand on her hip and the other between her legs--and despite the infernal thread brushing his throat, Sesshomaru is more than capable of driving into her this way. 

Silence has always been one of his tests, ribbons always her bonds. It’s not a surprise, however, that things are switched up in this way. The two of them know better than anyone that submission only requires acceptance, while dominance involves decision. So long as he is willing to follow her lead, Sesshomaru is the one bound. 

Her hand encircles his wrist, dragging it up towards her mouth. Sesshomaru braces himself for the warmth of her tongue, but instead Kagura pauses, letting his claws trace the skin at the base of her neck. A blunt nail grazes the vein in his wrist; it sends Sesshomaru’s chin tilting back roughly.  _ How  _ could something as flimsy as a piece of red silk steal his breath? 

Lips parting in shallow pants, she swallows whatever words his reaction brings. Sesshomaru’s gaze traces the flush from her cheeks all the way down her collarbone, spreading across her chest--_no, no,_ _absolutely not. _If he allows himself to look at the place where their bodies are joined, to match the sounds and sensation with their visual, then he will lose and he _does not lose. _

To make sure that his position is clear, he doubles his efforts. Kagura’s eyes burn rubescent; she squeezes his wrist once, twice, in silent praise. No one would ever believe the warmth that floods Sesshomaru’s chest at that. 

He, Sesshomaru, who restrains himself for no one.  _ Except you. _

Who lives by his word alone.  _ Except yours.  _

And, because he is a master of war, who has warmed Kagura’s bed for years, he knows exactly what will happen if he says those words aloud. 

Lifting just a touch so that the ribbon is taut, he confesses. Kagura’s hips stutter sharply, and--as predicted--a low moan of pure satisfaction  _ finally  _ crosses her lips. 

In respect for all of her work in crafting the game, he allows a mere second to lapse. The realization on her face is glorious, as the red in her eyes darkens a shade deeper. Then Sesshomaru rears up with a growl of triumph. 

The sound of the ribbon snapping in two is not nearly so pleasant as the sound Kagura makes when she comes. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concept from @kokoroni

“Well.  _ That _ was something.” 

Kagura rolls onto her back, the remains of her kimonos bunching up between her and the floor. Her breathing takes a while to ease; Sesshomaru would be concerned, if not for the smile stretched across her face. Stretching out her left leg until the hip socket pops, she yawns out, “Come here. It’s fucking cold.” 

Wordlessly, the daiyokai moves to lay his head on her chest. Kagura mutters something about clinginess, even as her arms come up around him. The persistent pounding of her heart echoing in his ear is soothing; Sesshomaru has the sudden wish to be the ribs that cage it.  _ To surround and be surrounded… _

But it is not like him to be poetic, and she would not know what to do with such things if he said them aloud. So Sesshomaru brushes the thoughts away quickly, content to shut his eyes and focus on the warmth of Kagura’s palm stroking through his hair. 

She sighs, in the way that usually means she’s a few moments from sleep. But then, the rhythm of her heart picks up. 

“What would you think of  _ me _ being inside  _ you _ ?” 

* * *

It would surprise no one to know that vulnerability is not his strong suit. 

Rather, Sesshomaru’s talents lie in his tenacity. His persistence.  _ Strength. _

The games that they play often do well to hone such traits, if in a manner that has been unexpected. But ever more lately, he finds Kagura tapping on doors that he never knew existed within him--and when she asks what is behind them, Sesshomaru has no answer to give. 

For her, boundaries have always been clear-cut.  _ Cut off my breathing, and you’ll be a dead dog. You cannot use that filthy chain to hold me. If you’re rough while I have you in my mouth, I’ll bite the damn thing off.  _

But when it comes to that which he does not want--that he would not be willing to try--Sesshomaru does not find he has much to say. The things that discomfort him most are intangible: Being a disappointment. Failing in simple things. Losing to an unworthy opponent. 

To admit to such things would require, again, vulnerability.

“You’re so agreeable when it comes to sex,” she says, appraising him in a way that’s almost guarded. “It’s quite unlike you.” 

“Perhaps it is the one area in which we are well-matched,” is his reply. 

“Are you saying that you would deny me nothing?” Her tone is lofty, but she’s frowning. Somehow, Sesshomaru finds that endearing. 

“If something does not interest me, then I can deny it quite easily.”  _ Do not think of the moment on the hill, shards glittering in her palm. Do not let this moment be stolen by regret.  _

Kagura leans back, kimono slipping from her shoulders. “Perhaps one of these days you should suggest something first, then. It wouldn’t kill you to be the one to ask.”

He resists the urge to shake his head. If he excels in meeting challenges, then it is Kagura’s talent to craft them. 

* * *

The wind witch drapes herself over his back to twist her fingers in his hair. It’s a rough grip, but it helps take his mind off of the slight discomfort elsewhere. Kagura’s other fingers curve between his legs, waiting for the tension in his shoulders to ease. 

“ _ Move _ ,” he growls, sliding one hand back to grip her thigh. She’s startled silent for a moment, before snorting in mock offense. 

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” 

The cool touch of a tongue draws a line up his back, leaving a shiver in its wake. Minutes pass, stretched long and warm like honey. Kagura’s fingers only begin to twist more quickly when Sesshomaru’s breathing turns shallow. 

“Alright?” She hums in a teasing tone. In response, he squeezes the curve of her thigh until she shrieks. “ _ Hey _ , if you leave a bruise then I’ll have to punish you.” 

“You like bruises,” he wants to say, but he can’t  _ actually  _ say anything because then she’s pressing in deeper and it’s too much and  _ gods _ —

He spent so long crafting his own strength. Love, full self-exposure, all of it became synonymous only with the sting of humiliation. But here, swallowed by the dark, the press of her lips against his spine offers him the freedom to simply be what he is. 

To give, if that is what he wants. To take, not because he must prove his superiority, but because it is what they both want. 

“Do you want to come,” she breathes, using the force of her hips to control the push and pull of her hand.  _ Do you accept what I give to you so openly? Do you trust me to take you apart, without fearing I will steal a piece of you away?  _

_ Yes, _ he thinks, tearing into the mattress with both hands. _ I put myself in your hands, to put back together again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually write men getting any so don't expect too much of this in the future lol


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first AU - and it's a modern, one too! Not my usual stick but there are no rules.

Inspired by [this piece of art](https://twitter.com/duanjieyi/status/1292789407380955137); I changed the cigarette to a lollipop because fire hazards, ya know? 

“You think I should close the blinds?” 

Kagura stares out the hotel window, tapping the glass vial of nail polish against her chin. Inky black sky, cut by the tops of tall buildings with glowing windows, stares back at her through the glass. A few blocks away, someone’s car alarm rings in an anxious tempo. 

Finally, with a careless hum, she yanks the shade down to cut out the rest of the world.

The plush carpet sinks beneath her bare feet as she walks over to the bed. Everything in the room, from the monotone artwork to the clean-lined furniture, looks new. It’s much more to her taste; the bed-and-breakfast that she checked out of yesterday had only faded, flower-printed wallpaper and a creaky mattress to offer. 

Kagura wrote a long paragraph about it in her travel review that was sure to result in several answering machine messages from her editor. But that’s not important right now.

Sliding onto the mattress, she lets loose a self-satisfied sigh. Yes, this is much nicer. Even if the view of the city is shitty.

_ Well, actually... _ she stretches out on one side of the blankets, smirking at the man lying very still beside her. A blindfold bisects the smooth planes of his face, the fabric several shades darker than his jacket and trousers. His arms angle upwards to where both wrists are handcuffed to the headboard. _ Never mind. This view’s absolutely delicious. _

“You still have it, right?” She leans over to squint at his fingers, until she can see a glimmer of gold--her fan brooch (the first thing she ever bought for herself, the one she _ always _ wears except when they’re playing) held tight against the palm of his left hand. “Remember, all you have to do is drop it and I’ll un-gag you.” 

He growls in response. The lines that scar his cheeks darken, as though in insult that she feels the need to remind him of the rules. Kagura swallows the bright laugh that threatens to bubble up. 

It speaks to her brilliance, that she managed to put things together so quickly with practically no notice. Sesshomaru’s only in this town because of a last-minute conference; Kagura had already been on her way to schedule her next flight when they’d run into each other at the coffee shop down the street. 

If one of them had been a mere fifteen minutes early...she squeezes her thighs together at the thought of missing such an opportunity. Because as soon as his eyes had locked on her, she’d recognized what was in them immediately. An emotion she is well acquainted with. 

_ Hunger. _

“This hotel is nice.” Stretching languidly, she presses her toes into his ankle. Sesshomaru remains stock-still, and she glows with pride. “Your bosses must like you better than mine.”

Fingers dance up from his belt, flicking a few buttons loose along the way. Other than a slight shake of his arms (_j__ust from the stress of holding them up, I’m sure) _he gives nothing back. Kagura slides the palm of her hand against warm skin for half a second, before delicately picking up the lollipop she left against his collarbone earlier. 

“They even give you candy at the front desk.” The wrapper finds its way onto the lovely carpet. “Childish, but sweet.” 

He mumbles something made unintelligible by the gag pressed between his lips. Kagura’s eyes flick up to check his hands, then move down to indulge in the sight of bare skin peering through his white button-down shirt. Even though it’s a bit cruel to do so at this particular moment, she can’t help but reminisce. 

She’d torn a very similar shirt of his the first time: Kyoto, sometime around five in the evening, the lobby bathroom. (That was before she knew what this was going to turn out to be. When she’d thought “the first time” meant “the one time”.) 

They’d abandoned their luggage by the elevator, she’d wrapped his tie around her fist and shoved him against the back of the door--_ him, _who she’d known for years but never seemed to be close enough to touch until that day--and whispered, “My flight’s in an hour, so you better hurry the fuck up.” 

In the two years since then, they meet up whenever their jobs bring them within twenty-five miles of one another. Details are easily hashed out over the phone in the time that stretches between such meetings. 

They never discuss something as fixed as what this is, or isn’t. Prying her way into his manner of thinking is different than trying to see what was in his heart nowadays. Anyway, Kagura likes fluidity; that’s why she spends her time going from place to place, drinking in the world that she once thought was out of reach. 

Adaptability is her most cherished skill. It’s easy enough to lend it to this, as well. 

The hitch of Sesshomaru’s hips pulls her out of the gossamer haze of thoughts. She realizes with a start that she’s been neglecting him for quite a while. Stupid; her whole job in this scenario is to make use of his remaining senses. 

“Getting impatient, are we?” Scoffing, Kagura pulls the lollipop free with a loud pop that makes him freeze. “It’s only been a month since we last met up. Have you really forgotten how to behave that quickly?” 

Tucking the candy against one side of her mouth, she twists the nail polish cap free. Sesshomaru’s nose wrinkles sharply at the smell; she sets the bottle safely on the side table, a touch further away from him. 

“Not that I blame you; last time _ was _ pretty fun. The scratches you left on my back lasted for almost a week. I should’ve taken pictures.” Her lips brush against his ear. “Maybe I will, next time. If you ask me _ nicely _.” 

It’s something she could only say in this kind of moment, Kagura knows. Outside of hotel rooms, Sesshomaru never demands much of anything from her--he certainly never _ begs _. It’s rather frustrating, sometimes, realizing just how much she could give if only he would...ah, but she doesn’t care about stupid things like that. 

Anyway, as her father once said, Kagura was only born to take. 

Returning to her casual position, she spreads her hand wide against his chest. “Speaking of asking, I’m surprised you’re not at all curious as to why I had these things in my carry-on.” 

The metal of the handcuffs clicks, as his arms twitch. 

“Cities like these are full of bored, single businessmen in town for work. And then here I am, tasked with exploring all of the best _ attractions... _” 

She wonders if his eyes have gone red; with the blindfold, there’s no way to tell. 

“I could have men like you waiting for me all over the world.”

The gag muffles his growl, but it still manages to sting her ears. Kagura responds with a shushing noise. Fingers splayed against his chest, she inspects her nails and pretends not to notice the way he’s digging his heels into the bed. 

“Ah, but that would be too much of a headache. The truth’s much less interesting -- I just stuck them back in the bag after cleaning up in the last place. Never fully unpacked it.” She smirks, painting a careful red line of polish on her pointer finger. Sesshomaru waits, breathing sharply through his nose. 

She does three more fingers before finally giving in, voice softening. “No one’s as much fun as you are, anyway.”

The handcuffs click again, and panic suddenly stabs the space just under her heart. _ Remember what this is, Kagura. _

“For example, it’s so easy to get you hot and bothered. All I have to do is tether you, _ make you _shut up. For all you go on about my big mouth, teasing you sure gets it tight under the belt…” She paints her thumb, ignoring how difficult it is with her shaking fingers. “I bet you’d like that--my big mouth, under your belt.” 

Ugh, she immediately regrets handing him the punchline like that. She can do better, _ has _done better. By the end of this, Kagura wants to be burned so carefully into his mind that no matter what, whether it’s the blindfold or the hotel lighting or someone else with him in the dark, she will be there too. 

“But I’ve only done one hand, and the polish is still wet. Think you can wait?” 

Holding her fingers up, she blows cool air on them, angling it just the right way to catch his ear. Sesshomaru twists, and for the first time she notes the sweat beading along his hairline and down the length of his exposed neck. 

She starts on the other hand, glad that he can’t see her blush. 

Long minutes pass. Kagura shifts into autopilot, rambling about who knows what while her main mental functions focus entirely on his reactions. The pull of his wrists on the handcuffs becomes more frequent, the muscles in his thighs tensing…

Is it being so close to her that’s doing him in? The thrill of a long night at her mercy, when he was probably expecting only a glaring laptop screen and hotel-bar coffee for company? Is it because he noticed that she’s wearing the black bra that he likes because of the front clasp, or did he see that she changed his morning alarm for ten minutes later than it was already set--

Her other hand is done. 

“This red is pretty. Oh, I almost forgot you were there! Doing okay?” She leans over to brush her lips against his cheek, pulling away when something small bounces off her forehead. “Ow! What the--” 

She sees gold resting in the V of his shirt, and immediately throws herself over him to get to the handcuff key.

As soon as his wrists are free, he’s wrapping both arms tight around her; she feels her nail polish smudge badly as her fingers pull the gag loose, then the blindfold. The latter falls between the pillows, the strap of the former sinking to rest on Sesshomaru’s collarbone. Panic sends her heart racing--he’s _ never _asked to be released before he comes, and she hasn’t even touched him yet. Was she not paying enough attention? 

“Are you okay?” She massages his jaw gently, tone urgent. “Sesshomaru--” 

Then his hips stutter roughly against hers; his face presses hard into her neck. She’s left in stunned surprise as he comes, holding her tightly on top of him. 

After a long moment, when he’s regained his breath, Kagura pushes him back against the headboard. “Uh, what the hell was that?” 

Sesshomaru clears his throat. One wrist comes up between them to scrub across his face, giving her a glimpse of a pink line on his skin. His other wrist flexes sharply against the bed; the sound it makes sends a chill up her spine. 

“Haven’t we done this enough times that you should recognize it?” He rasps. 

Kagura huffs in offense. “That’s _ not _what I mean. You--” 

“Kagura.” He works his jaw silently for a moment, and she spies a tiny streak of nail polish staining one side of his chin. “Have you ever been to Fujidera, in Osaka?” 

She stares at him, wondering if perhaps she was _ too _good this time and fucked the brains right out of his head. “Why?”

“I am being forced to take my vacation days next week, and it is my plan to spend the time there.” Sesshomaru pulls off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. His tone is as casual as ever, right on the edge of disinterest. Other than the roughness of his voice, no one would ever believe that five minutes ago, he’d been entirely helpless under Kagura’s spell. “If you have other places to be, however...” 

Her head swims, and not in the usual, I-know-you-got-off-but-I-haven’t-so-get-back-here way. Finding the fan pin before it can be lost in the sheets, she pins it to the strap of her bra. “Is there a lot to do in Fujidera?” 

Gold eyes look everywhere but directly at her. “If you are amused by run-down temples crowded with gawking tourists, then yes.” 

Kagura starts to ask why he would complain about it if he’s the one choosing to go there anyway, but the warmth of hands on her bare hips is too distracting. Swallowing her complaints, she instead shifts back and forth across his lap. The friction is delicious, but even more so when his eyes finally meet hers. 

“If you want me to go with you,” she breathes, “you have to actually _ ask _.” 

Sesshomaru frowns, jaw set. His grip matches the push and pull of her movements; both thumbs press hard into the very tops of her thighs, the way he knows she likes to be held. 

“Would you let yourself be convinced?” 

Kagura laughs, blooming with a hope that she’d never let him see. “If you fix my ruined nails, maybe. Along with some other--” 

Sesshomaru rolls her over, pushing both her hands up to the headboard so the smudged polish won’t touch the sheets.

As his teeth sink into her neck, Kagura reminds herself _ again _how smart she was to go for a caffeine fix before her flight.


	13. Chapter 13

**Kagura Week 2020 - Seven Deadly Sin Prompts. The sfw ones will be posted in a separate doc. Happy reading :) **

**Gluttony**

The night is still.

Even so, Sesshomaru moves quietly through the trees, listening intently. Gold eyes narrow at the shapes that night’s darkness takes, as moonlight chases it into corners. 

Though he doesn’t visit it often himself, it’s easy to find his way around this particular orchard. It’s a favorite of the local demon tribes. According to Jaken, the trees bloom and fruit at least a week earlier than any other in his territory. 

Wind brushes the curve of his ear. He stops; his boot finds the pulp of something. A familiar smell, all around-- _ pears.  _

Scores of them, littering the forest floor. Most of them have a mere one or two bites scarring their skin white in the darkness. Not bothering to be careful, he squeezes between a pair of overgrown trunks, crushing several fruits into the grass. 

Kagura sits in a nest of spindly branches, leaves catching in her hair. Below her, more half-eaten pears speckle the ground, like rejected jewels on a debutante’s carpet. She holds a fresh one close to her mouth. 

As if she’s been waiting for him.

It’s only when their eyes meet that she takes a bite. Juice drips down her fingers when she pulls away. He can see the glisten of it on her chin, the dig of her teeth in the flesh before it disappears. The bob of her throat as she swallows, and the quick flash of her tongue as she licks her lips. 

Something far off in the distant dark sings. 

He walks over to the tree. The cloying sweetness of the fruit trodden underfoot is overwhelming. But having the abilities that he does, Sesshomaru can still catch her scent, hidden beneath it, quite easily.

The palm of his hand finds the curve of her leg. The wind witch braces both arms against the branches; the pear falls to her lap, staining the fabric of her outer kimono with juices. Sesshomaru glances at it before ticking an eyebrow at her. 

Kagura beams, not appearing the least bit sorry. “The first bite tastes the best.” 

Fingers dig into the bend of her knee, and he pulls. 

She falls into his grasp with a loud swear; pale arms thud against his shoulders. The fruit in her lap falls away to lie with the rest of its abandoned siblings in the dirt. Moonlight marks the pale dent where her teeth have taken a bite. 

Licking into her mouth, Sesshomaru lets the taste of a hundred just-ripened pears flood his tongue, and decides that she may be right. 

**Envy **

Concept: gallimaufri

The music stops, and so does Kagura. 

She makes quite the sight; arms and legs curved at different angles, the tip of her fan pointing directly at the visiting lord, and sweat flooding down the back of her neck. Brushing a tendril of undone hair behind her ear, the wind witch straightens. 

Her guest’s eyes are blown wide with surprise, beak hanging open. But of course; when the tengu lord Hiroto commented on her name’s meaning over dinner, it had been meant as a slight. Tipsy on rice wine and feeling superior, he’d pointed a claw at his drummers and asked her to dance ( _ “it’s a common practice among tengu for hosts to entertain their guests; surely you wouldn’t mind, my dear?” _ ), expecting Kagura to embarrass herself. 

After all, she’s simply Naraku’s former servant. A scarred, half-born creature with no talents and no purpose. Sometimes, Kagura wonders if people believe Naraku split his brain into pieces along with his body, leaving her senseless. 

Well, judging from the applause from Hiroto’s traveling companions, she’s not the one who looks stupid. 

Settling back in her place, Kagura accepts the praise with a touch less smugness than she actually feels; she is a daiyokai’s wife, after all. Her self-pride is slightly marred by the way that the tengu lord’s eyes drag over her, flitting from the toes of her bare feet, to the curve of her elbow where one sleeve has drawn back, and not even hesitating to stare where that lock of hair falls into the fold of her collar. 

Beside her, Sesshomaru is silent; he appears to be calm as ever.

_ Appears,  _ only. The marks on his face have darkened ever so slightly, and the implications of what that could mean makes Kagura squeeze her thighs together in her seat. 

Smiling, she tucks her hair back into place, picks up a cup of sake, and drains it.

The speed with which he, Hiroto, and Jaken complete their after-dinner political bullshit is startling. In what feels like no time at all, Kagura’s in her quarters with Sesshomaru’s front pressed up against her naked back, bracing them against the windowsill. 

“He’s leaving already.” Her teasing words break off, as his right hand slips around to cup her breast. The view of the fortress gate through the window blurs. “You must have been quite annoyed with him.” 

Teeth find the edge of her ear- _ -too sharp,  _ and Kagura pushes her elbow back into his ribs. Sesshomaru’s head pulls back slightly, but the pressure of his body against hers remains solid. 

Part of her wants to twist around, grip a handful of silver hair in her fist, and push him to his knees. The rest of her knows that there’s plenty of time left in the night for that; _I should_ _enjoy this while it lasts. _Her eyelids flutter open, catching a gray glint of metal. Hiroto and his court probably haven’t even made it to the main road yet. It’s a decent bet that, if the tengu lord looks back at the castle from the right angle, her silhouette in the window would immediately draw his eye. 

_ Sitting in a room and talking politics must have been agony.  _ Of course, thanks to age and experience, Hiroto would have been able to hold a decent conversation even with her performance still on his mind. 

But there’s no hiding a scent steeped in desire from a dog demon. 

“Lord of the Western Lands,” It’s hard to keep the words steady, with the twist of his right hand making red bloom across her chest. “Do you know the difference between jealousy and envy?”

Sesshomaru’s muttered response is unintelligible. His nose hits the back of her neck, and she feels the growl that rumbles in his chest all the way down into her toes. 

“Jealousy is when someone tries to take what’s yours.” Kagura hikes a thigh up to rest against the edge of the windowsill; Sesshomaru’s left hand slides underneath it to his intended goal with careful precision. Her breath catches. “Envy is desiring something that belongs to someone else.” 

He growls again. “I’m not--”

“Hush.” She wants to grab his face with both hands and tell him that she knows, after all this time of _course _she knows that this is him giving, not taking--that every time he pushes it’s only because she told him what and when and how. “All he wants is to possess me. He’s not smart enough to think beyond that.” 

_ What he should want is what we have between us. The nameless, bright and blooming thing that we somehow made work despite each of us being total fuck-ups-- _

Gripping the frame of the window with both hands, Kagura breathes, “You’re mine. I’m yours. Don’t forget that.”

Sesshomaru sighs. Then his teeth press into her shoulder, the claws of his right hand dragging across her chest, leaving red lines right over the space where her heart lies. 

_ Envy,  _ Kagura thinks senselessly, as he presses into her.  _ Let’s make that stupid bird choke on it. _

**Lust for Life **

Kagura bolts up when thunder crashes against the walls of the castle, excitement clear as day on her face. Before Sesshomaru can ask, she’s already out of bed and headed for the stairs. 

Sighing, he debates just going back to sleep and ignoring her. But like with most things about Kagura, the glint of her grin in the dark sticks heavily in his mind, like a recurring dream he can’t shake loose. Only a few minutes later does he find himself stalking through the halls, tracing the scent of her joy floor after floor. 

She has a habit of leaving and entering through windows, so he must do so as well to find her. Sheets of rain cascade down across his vision, drenching the mokomoko curled around both shoulders. Lightning stripes the sky for a split second, followed by a low rumble he feels in his teeth.

He finds Kagura standing atop the castle gate. Her arms and legs thrash in between the water, and for a brief moment he wonders if she’s fighting something. Then she laughs, a rough clash of sound, and he realizes she’s dancing. 

Rain soaks through the fabric of her kimonos, dragging the sleeves down over her hands. Her bare feet slip dangerously against the stone. Sesshomaru catches her just as she’s about to fall, growling an admonishment that’s lost in the storm. Lighting flashes again, framing her bright eyes in its light. 

“I used to dream about this,” she shouts, leaning her face up towards the rain. Drops coat the bottom of her eyelashes like jewels. “Whenever I was locked up on stormy nights, I would promise myself that I’d run about in the rain like a fool the next time I got the chance.” 

_ It’s foolish for a reason,  _ he wants to say, but then Kagura’s arms are around his shoulders, fingers digging into the fur like she’s drowning. For a long moment--a minute? Five? Ten?--they’re swaying together, his boots holding a steady grip on the wet gate’s surface. He wonders what the music playing inside her head is; what it would take for him to hear it, too. 

Kagura laughs again, softer this time. The sound burrows in, past his ribs to the space behind his heart, and curls up there like some kind of small animal. 

“I’m fucking freezing,” she sighs, pressing their foreheads together. He fists his hands against her soaked clothing, feeling how much weight the water adds to it. 

When he turns away, he pulls her with him, and Kagura doesn’t object. 

In their room, she peels layer upon layer free, letting their clothes fall onto the floor with wet sounds. He grips her hair with his claws, sending tiny streams of water running down her back. Kagura moans, the pads of her fingers mapping the same path where she dripped candle wax on him the other night. He shudders at the memory, and Kagura smirks.

“Cold, huh?” She presses her body up against his, teeth needling one ear. “You didn’t have to come after me, you know.” 

He growls, because of course he didn’t but also  _ of course  _ he did. He’s been following her lead ever since she reappeared before him, warm and real and  _ free _ . And no matter where Kagura’s full-body lust for newfound life takes her--whether forest, field, mountain, or ocean--he will continue to follow.

They burrow under the blankets, sharing warmth in bare skin. Kagura teases him about bringing out the candles again, but once his nose is buried between her neck and shoulder she’s loath to move. Rain continues to drench the outside world, but she’s a storm all on her own. Every sigh, scream, drag of nails down his spine is an indulgence that she’s more than earned. 

_ I want to experience everything,  _ she once said, breathless and stretched out over his lap.  _ As much as I can.  _

Tonight was dancing in a storm. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. 

**Avarice (Greed, Selfishness) **

Kagura breaks the river’s surface, wincing at the way the cold water makes her arms throb. Her body still feels tender, though the bruises will be gone by tonight. Splashing her face with both hands, she digs her toes into the sand and wonders why the ache is so self-satisfying.

Is it because the marks dotting her skin are something she’s chosen--drawn from experiences of delight and desire, instead of pain and punishment? Or is it because they act as proof that whatever she asks of Sesshomaru ( _ bite down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to hurt)  _ she knows he will give? 

One knuckle presses into the corner of her eye. She wades to the edge of the bank, strands of dark hair dragging in the water behind her. As she puts herself back together--kosode, one kimono, then the second, hair up and squeezed out--memories from the night before flood back. 

Power becomes her, Kagura must say. Even if it’s just in his bed, deciding how many seconds longer he must hold his breath. To some, the games they play would make her selfish; after all, how could an insufferable know-it-all like Sesshomaru  _ enjoy  _ being the one out of control? 

She slips slightly in the grass, dirt digging into the heels of her bare feet. It’s perfectly logical, that he would get off from someone else calling the shots. Uptight people always secretly long for a chance to break loose, don’t they? And what’s so wrong with her enjoying the attention, especially when it’s given by a creature who makes such a point  _ not _ to dote on anyone? 

Her walk through the fields back to his castle is muscle memory, at this point. Kagura could fly easily, if she wanted to; but it’s a nice day, and the sun streaming down on the back of her neck feels good. 

She deserves more things that feel good. She deserves to  _ indulge,  _ when it’s never been an option before. 

Beneath the layers of kimono, the kosode sticks to her thighs and under her arms. The edge of it tickles a particularly tender bruise on the top of her rib cage, where his tongue and teeth worried the spot until it purpled. The sting of pain is addictive, but not as much as the glimmer of accomplishment in Sesshomaru’s eyes every time he marks her, as he’s pulling away. Kagura always finds herself dragging him back to her sweat-stained skin-- _ more, more, give me all of your attention so I know that you are mine. _

_ No one’s ever belonged to me, before.  _

Stretching both arms out, Kagura snatches at the wildflower stems that cross her path, crushing the petals with her bare toes as they fall to the dirt. It’s not like she can’t tell the difference, between a willing submission and a violent one. She’s not greedy in the way Naraku was. 

Her eyes never glowed with purpose, when she was forced to do  _ his _ bidding. Her former master never concerned himself with whether she’d been hurt, if she was scared, if the situation was too dangerous. Kagura could never be so careless with another person--could never hold Sesshomaru’s heart in her hands and threaten to crush it. 

The back of her neck burns. Her steps increase in speed, until she’s right in front of the castle door. In what feels like no time at all, she’s found him in one of the many rooms inside, both arms wrapped around his shoulders. 

He says her name, and it’s not an order. 

_ More.  _

She bites his lip, and it isn’t a threat. 

_ More.  _

Her back hits the wall, and Kagura knows she won’t be content with  _ just enough _ of this for as long as she lives. 

**Pride **

Sweaty palms curl around his throat; the high from their grip sings in his veins.  _ You’re doing quite well.  _

Loud cries lost to the wind, as she pushes him against the stone rooftop.  _ Just like that--perfect.  _

Her teeth sink into his bottom lip; he is lost in a sea of scarlet, as the chain digs ever tighter into his wrists.  _ Good boy.  _

_ You should be proud.  _

A year into their relationship, they spend two months apart. 

The night they are together again, Sesshomaru’s palm braces against the place on her back, where Naraku’s spider scar used to be. 

Kagura flinches. Automatically, instinctually. Then, shaking herself free with a blunt curse, she disappears into the hall. 

The moment--and the suspicions that preceded it--plays in his mind for the rest of the evening. After all, Sesshomaru has had too much time to think. 

His test has always been to give in, to open up, to submit--and the pride she takes in such things, when he succeeds in them, is addictive. A dark ambrosia that, sometimes, it feels he is gifted all too easily. Yet he cannot recall a moment when Kagura has accepted such a thing for herself.

Others think her prideful, in the sense that they consider her vain--her painted lips, dramatics in battle, and ill-timed commentary appear to communicate a sense of self-indulgence. But all Kagura has ever claimed to want is freedom in its barest sense--survival, absent of servitude. 

Hardly a lofty prize. 

To allow Kagura to see  _ him, _ weak and wanting, required pulling back layers that he had no intentions of disturbing. Sesshomaru knows intimately what a risk it is.

What magic it would take to make her do the same? 

“It’s our first night together in a while,” she breathes, wrapping both arms around him. “Anything special you have in mind?”

He knows what she expects him to say-- _ The scarves, the chains, please oh please hold my very breathing in your hands-- _ and chooses instead that which she could not. 

“Lie on your stomach.” 

Her eyebrows climb skywards, as she leans back to search his face. “You won’t even look me in the eye? Must be something strange.” 

In moments like these, Sesshomaru is grateful for his ability to remain expressionless. “No harm will come to you.” 

Softness graces the corners of her face. “Well, of course I know  _ that.”  _ Turning around, she adds in a teasing sing-song, “No pain except in the ways I like, hm?” 

He sighs, mainly because she says such things to annoy him and showing that it works will help put her at ease. His reward comes in her snickering, as she rolls onto her stomach with both arms crossed beneath her chin. 

“If you’re offering a massage, I won’t accept it. You always push too hard--” 

Her words cut off bluntly, as he places one hand flat against her spine. Even in the dark, the sudden tensing in her shoulders is visible. 

“You are sensitive here,” he says quietly. 

After a long moment ( _ almost  _ long enough to make him abandon the idea entirely), she relaxes. The loosening of muscle beneath his fingers is a relief, as is the curiosity in her tone as she speaks. 

“So what if I am.” 

Slowly, reverently, he traces a line from her neck to her tailbone, and back up. Her heart echoes loudly in his ears, as if it’s staining the sheets beside them instead of safely tucked behind her ribs. 

For a while, that’s all he does--simply trace a pattern up and down her back, while he tries to figure out how to say what has taken root in his thoughts. 

“Your strength is quite admirable.” Are they words that he thought that she would want someone to say? Or words that  _ he _ ’s always longed to hear, that Kagura has gifted him through her praise? The words she deserves to have echoed back, after all this time? “All your life, you have sought a single goal. And against unmanageable odds, you mastered that which many could not have dreamed of doing.” 

_ You mean that I mastered  _ ** _you_ ** _ ?  _ He expects her to say. But Kagura is quiet, pressing her mouth against folded hands. Sesshomaru’s claws drag gently over her shoulders, the back of her neck, the curve where her thighs meet the rest of her body. 

It’s barely perceptible, but she trembles.

“Strength makes one tired.” He must keep his touch light. It somehow feels riskier than the other times. Bonds, biting, breathlessness--she’s never been more fragile than right now. “In this room, you have instructed me to put down my burdens many times. Welcomed my prostration, when no one else would ever have asked it of me.” 

Kagura inhales. Sesshomaru waits, but still no words come.

“The first years of freedom are behind you. There will be many more to come.” 

His fingers slip inside her easily. The rest of her body must ache for stimulation--teeth, a solid grip,  _ something.  _ “Kagura.” 

“Yes,” She whispers, arching her back. Hungry, drawing him in deeper.

_ Give me your burdens, now.  _ “In your command of me...in all things…”

The shadow on her back is just a shadow; it will always only be a shadow. 

“You’ve done well.” 

Time loses meaning; there is no sense for how long he thrusts, before Kagura comes (breaks,  _ shatters _ ) with her face pressed into the sheets. As she shakes, Sesshomaru leans over to cover her body with his own as much as he can.

“You asshole,” she says, as soon as she can breathe. “If I wanted a fucking  _ feelings fest-- _ ”

Carefully, he draws his hand out from her body, flexing his fingers. “This shall be the first and last time, if you wish it.”

“Well.” One arm stretches out to lock around his wrist. After a significant pause, she mumbles, “If that’s the mood you’re in tonight, then you might as well do it again...” 

**Sloth **

“You are still in bed.” 

He stares at her stretched-out figure in a manner some might find disapproving. However, when Kagura cracks one blood-red eye open, the glow of interest in his expression is easier for her to find than most things. 

Mostly because she doesn’t have a lot to do, these days, but to study his expressions. The past few weeks have been exceedingly boring; no enemies, mysteries, or challenges to be found. It almost makes her miss Inuyasha’s group, and the drama that always seemed to follow them. 

Rolling onto her back, she stretches both arms out languidly, not missing the path his eyes take along her shifting muscles. “Fuck, I’m  _ exhausted. _ ”

His cheek twitches. “It would be difficult to think of a reason why.” 

She snorts. It’d be too easy to slip in a comment about their sex life, so she ruefully refrains. “Wandering around the forest takes a lot out of me, you know.” 

His gaze drifts from her tanned thighs to where her kimonos pile in the corner, then the room’s door. When several seconds have passed without a retort, Kagura makes a sharp sound to regain his attention. 

“Come here.” She jerks her chin upwards, and feels pleasure coil in her gut when he settles on the edge of the bed.  _ So obedient.  _ “Stay with me for a while longer.”

Sesshomaru reaches over, claws hovering over her skin. Only at her slight nod does he settle the full weight of his palm on the flesh just above her left knee. “Am I to waste my day watching you sleep?”

“Bastard.” She shifts her legs further apart pointedly. “You’d be more useful to help me stay awake.” 

His thumbnail scratches against the inside of her thigh, earning a sharp inhale. Sesshomaru’s face remains impassive, even as his other hand slides up her opposite leg. “Such things are not my responsibility.” 

Dark eyelashes flutter, but the curve of her mouth is anything but sweet. “Do you only do things out of a sense of responsibility?”

“To be skilled in anything requires self-discipline.” And yet, here he is, shifting his position to kneel between her legs. Sesshomaru cannot say if he is simply a hypocrite, or the one who is truly selfish. 

Kagura smiles, sliding over so he has more space. One fingertip grazes his neck. “I’ll give you all the discipline you like.” 

Tremors snake up his spine; the bow of Sesshomaru’s head feels automatic, almost ritualistic. But when his tongue meets the freckled stretch of skin on her stomach, Kagura’s hum stops him in his tracks. 

“Hang on.” 

Sesshomaru’s shoulders tense at the scrape of nails along his scalp; but their many nights (and mornings, and afternoons) together have trained him to remain still when instructed. Kagura only tugs a little as she gathers the long strands of hair falling down his back and shoulders, muttering to herself. 

“How can you stand to keep it like this when it’s so hot all the time…”

In no time at all, the hair is twisted into a bun atop his head--much like the one she wears herself. His claws dig deeper into the softness of her thighs as the pads of her fingers ghost across the back of his neck. 

“There.” Smugly, she crosses both arms behind her head. “You’re cute, now.” 

He stares up at her disapprovingly. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Kagura sticks her tongue out in return. “If you won’t let me sleep in, then you’ll have to put up with it.” 

_ As if she hadn’t asked him to stay in the first place _ ...Sesshomaru drags his lips over to one side, searching for the spot by her hip-bone that always makes her jerk involuntarily. “I suppose asking you to amuse yourself is out of the question.” 

She snorts. “Amuse myself with what? There’s nothing interesting to do around here.” 

Sesshomaru hikes her hips up pointedly. 

“Fair point...” Curling her toes against his back, she uses the leverage to pull him forwards. “Besides, I like it much better when you amuse me.” 

And though he’d never admit it, she knows from the vigor with which he pushes his face between her legs that he likes it too.

**Wrath **

When their fight happened, Jaken didn’t know it would be him who suffered the most. 

After all, it’s hardly the first time they’ve ever argued. And anyone with a lick of sense would be able to peg Kagura as a petty kind of person. Still, when he returned to Lord Sesshomaru’s side with the letter she’d thrown at him ( _ take this downstairs, because I’d rather throw myself out the damn window than be made to say another word to that stupid fucking face),  _ Jaken had hoped that his Lord would see that as a sign. Either to finally remove the wind witch from their lives for good, or to simply make up. 

Whatever that meant. 

He hadn’t expected to be promoted to their _ go-between _ .

Nor did he expect the wind witch’s handwriting to be so unbearably awful. By the third hour, she’d decided it’d simply be faster to dictate her insults, written in Jaken’s hand, than wait for him to translate what he thought she meant (of course, from the way Lord Sesshomaru’s jaw clenched with every pause in the phrasing, maybe it didn’t matter either way.) 

By hour four, Lord Sesshomaru had jumped into dictating his own drawn-out retorts, nearly faster than Jaken could scribe them. Both demons refused to hold back on that which Jaken himself would have considered ‘below-the-belt’ shots (Kagura once again reminding Sesshomaru that her death was his fault, him pointing out her lack of ambition now that she had the life she’d so long desired). If one made a particularly spectacular remark, the other would quickly match it with mouth-frothing rage. 

It was  _ insane _ , and Jaken went to bed that night wondering how much longer he’d last under such stressful conditions. 

It was many hours from sunrise when Sesshomaru swung open the doors to Kagura’s bedchamber. If she hadn’t been unable to sleep, perhaps his entrance would have been startling. 

She was already stretched out on the futon, facing away from the door. Hearing the creak of the floorboards as he made his way over, she snapped, “Go sleep in your own room.” 

The blankets shifted off her shoulder, as his weight settled on her other side. Usually, the familiarity of the noises that followed--Bakusaiga and Tensaiga being settled carefully on the floor, the ties of his armor being undone--would have been soothing. But instead, they all just filled her with a poisonous annoyance.

The floor creaked as he lay down fully. Kagura didn’t roll over to press into him, hoping the disappointment would sting. 

“You have the worst penmanship I have ever seen.” 

“ _ That’s _ the first thing you have to say to me?” Twisting around, her nails made a beeline for his eye, only to be stopped by the ring of his grip around her wrist. “Cold-hearted bastard--” 

“I am dealing with issues of extreme severity.” Teeth glinted in the moonlight; he held her wrist fast. “A possible  _ insurrection-- _ ” 

“Which you wouldn’t even know about if I hadn’t told you!” 

“You did not tell me. I heard you  _ gossiping about it _ to Kohaku and Rin, as though it was a merely frivolous rumor.” 

Kagura yanked her arm free, punching her pillow with a muffled thump. “If you’d bothered to let me finish, instead of dragging me away from them, then maybe you would have heard the part where I already took care of it, you colossal prick!” 

He frowned deeply, arm falling to his side. “What am I to glean from such a statement?” 

“Glean whatever the fuck you want.” Crossing both arms over her chest, she twisted away from him with a scoff. “Since you’re so keen to assume that I find it all  _ frivolous. _ ” 

“Kagura.” 

Frustratedly, she exhaled, blowing her bangs up off of her forehead. “I tossed him down a dark hole for a few hours until he told me who his allies were. Then I stuck them in some...other dark places.” Giving him a cutting look from the corner of her eye, she muttered, “ _ You  _ probably thought I was just going around scaring babies and knocking trees on people’s houses.” 

“Considering that is how you spend the majority of your time,” Sesshomaru said, not a little defensively, “I will not take the blame for such an assumption. You are the one who said that anything involving the political aspects of the Western lands bores you--”

“Yes, it does. But when some random demon challenges my lover because their great-great-grandfather hated his great-aunt-twice-removed or whatever, I’m not going to just sit around and watch.” Rolling her eyes at the glimmer of disbelief in his expression, she added, “I’ve been around long enough to know what kind of things get your big poofy pants in a twist. You’re _ unbearable _ when you’re worrying about something, so I thought I’d save you the trouble.” 

“It becomes trouble when you jump into doing things without explanation.” Gritting his teeth, he fell back into a lying-down position. “You could have also dictated any of this in one of your many letters earlier.” 

Her voice pitched into a snooty mimicry. “Would you have been able to read it, with my bad handwriting?” 

Sesshomaru huffed a wordless noise. “If I had known you’d been involved, then I wouldn’t have worried.” It was the closest to a compliment, or a thank you, he’d give. If it wasn’t enough, then that was her problem. 

A long moment of tense silence, strained even by normal standards. Then, a cold hand pressed against one of the yokai marks on his cheek, just the wrong side of too hard. 

Kagura’s tone was flat. “I’m not going to apologize, you know.”

He turned his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes were little stars in the dark; finger-tips left his skin, then danced back along his cheek much more gently. 

Just before they could touch his lips, Sesshomaru’s hand came up to catch her wrist for the second time that night. 

Kagura surged forward, mouth slamming against his. It was easy to roll onto his side, using his grip to pull her entire body close. Sharp teeth sank into his lip, hard enough that it would have drawn blood had he been human. 

“Witch,” he snarled, pulling away sharply. Kagura pushed forward after him, however, and her next kiss wasn’t any softer. He waited a punishing moment before returning her roughness with his own. From experience, he knew exactly how much pressure made her breath hitch and legs fall open. 

Kagura smirked; of course he had no intention to apologize, either. But that didn’t seem to matter, for the moment--so long as neither of them pulled away. 

“Is this what it is to be ruined,” he muttered, as she swung a leg over his hip. Despite the shake of his head (at his own foolishness, or that which they shared between them?) his hand moved from Kagura’s wrist to grip the flesh of her thigh. 

“Hush.” One palm curved over the warmth of his mouth. “Save that kind of talk for your next letter. I expect your tone to be much kinder, now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Send me asks/requests at savethelastdan.tumblr.com


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